#Santana sucks

[soopertiddies]

I've been rewatching s3 and the early half of s3 was actually wild and it felt like almost unnecessarily cruel? especially to the gay poc characters..like the way they treated mercedes with the whole wss and troubletones storyline boils my blood to this day 😒

the sanatana storyline was especially awful and other people have already covered how bad it was way better than I could but the glee writers handled it was actually disgusting

you’re actually so right about them being wildly effeminophobic to kurt in s3 😑😑 like it felt extremely out of place and just nasty

also i think kurt and mercedes should have been allowed to kill sebastian and mr schuester with hammers for the effeminophobic and rascist bullshit they had to deal with

So, disclaimer, I haven't reached season 3 yet I had watched the scene of Bieste, Emma and Artie being horrible to Kurt because it popped up on youtube. But I did watch it when it came out and I DO remember that season 3 filled me with rage, and this is absolutely why.

I don't think Glee handled any storyline well, maybe Kurt getting bullied, but even then I think it was only because Chris (happy bday king) is genuinely good at acting.

And GOD they never gave Mercedes a genuine storyline they gave her one about tater tots and one about her being 'lazy'.

And not to get back on my 'I hate ryan murphy' narrative, but you could tell which cast members he didn't like by how they treated their characters (Chris, Dianna, Amber, and Naya) their characters were always dragged through the mud, they were always painted as doing something wrong even if they were completely justified

(i.e Santana slapping Finn because she was OUTTED and her getting in trouble for it, Kurt not getting into NYADA even though he did amazing, Schue yelling at Quinn even though she genuinely needed help, and Mercedes being called lazy and never getting what she rightfully deserved (like the Maria role)

You're absolutely right about everything, and my apologies for ranting once again those four are my favorite characters and I'm very passionate about how shitty they were treated.

(Also, they should be allowed to murder).

[smmagain]

santana practice

[sillysunflowe]

Oh I forgot to post this mfin pic wip

(Ain't finishing it tho)

[autisticjonathanjoestar]

you know the. yeah.

[thomas-the-goat-of-satan]

oh my god, season three of Glee fucking Sucks, like a solid eighty percent of the time. crazy how people hail it as the peak, just because it's like. a Little Bit Gayer than the other seasons. psh. Santana Lopez should've been allowed to Kill People.

[hevansiowa]

brittana is when the day met the night by panic! at the disco

[ghsttk]

waking up the building.

🎼: Acordando o prédio - Luan Santana

Scenario: You and Johnny not caring about keeping it quiet in a hotel room.

Warnings: smut, female reader, p in v, unprotected sex, a single slap (I wish there had been more), praise kink, creampie, dom!Johnny and sub!reader.

Word count: 1k

a/n: LET'S WAKE UP THIS BUILDING, MAKE EVERYONE JEALOUS. WHILE THEY'RE GOING TO WORK WE MAKE LOVE AGAIN, AGAIN AND AGAIN (I love this song srry) English is not my first language!!

It's 04:00 am, Monday. You were taking care of Johnny while he took a break from his busy schedule, resting in a hotel room. You and Johnny should be sleeping, since it is still early, but you two had other plans. You were grinding against each other's thighs, almost becoming one, sharing breathless confessions of desire. 

He kisses you hungrily, nibbing your lower lip. “God, Johnny…” You call, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, making his breath hitch. He moves to your neck, lips brushing lazily against your skin. You arch your back towards him, he always makes you so needy. His hands snake behind your back, reaching for the clasp of your lacy bra. Johnny leans and presses kisses on your chest while freeing your breasts, throwing the bra away. “I love when you wear them but- God…” He breathes, staring mesmerized. “It's also a shame to have to cover these beauties” He praises your breasts, giving a kiss to each one. You giggle at him, finding it amusing.

“You're so silly” Your fingers tangle his hair, pulling it as he starts sucking your nipples, making you moan softly. He hums in approval, his right hand leaving your waist to slide between your legs, going into your panties. He groans as he feels your arousal slicking his fingers. “My God, sweetheart, all this just for me?” He teases you with a smirk, caressing your folds, sliding two fingers on your soaked slit. “Mhm, of course, it is..” You gasp, closing your eyes as you enjoy his skilled fingers on you.

You whine for him “Please, John” He kisses your neck again, moving up. “Can we go raw, love? I didn't have time to buy new condoms” He whispers, nuzzling against your neck, fingers still working on your dripping pussy. “Fuck yes, I don’t care, just shove it inside and stretch my—” He laughs softly, the sound husky from desire “Calm down, sweetie.” He shakes his head and kisses your jawline. Johnny reaches down, removing his fingers from you, and takes off his boxers hastily, his hard manhood bouncing from his abruptness.

You reach down to tease his pink leaking tip, only to receive a hard stare from Johnny. “Careful now, hm.” He warns, as if that would stop you. He holds both of your thin wrists with a hand, pinning them above your head. “Now, be a good girl and wrap those gorgeous legs around me, pretty.” You oblige, crossing your ankles behind his back. He caresses your thigh with a hand, the other holding the base of his cock, rubbing the tip against your swollen labia to lube the head, then finally sliding it inside. He introduces slowly, stopping between thrusts, his mouth open in a soundless moan.

You feel every inch, every delicious detail of him, you love being so full of him. Johnny starts moving his hips, rolling them forward, against you. When you got used to his size, he continued to push slowly, which made you impatient. “Faster, John, please” You whine in his ear as he leans down, scratching his back. He hisses and shakes his head “Shhh… The walls are thin, sweetheart” He sighs “We can't lose ourselves now.” You could sense that it didn't please him either, he wanted more just like you needed more.

Then, being the good girl you are, you decide to ignore what he said and just beg and beg for more, until he gives in. You start with whimpers and tiny moans in his ear, calling for him, then kisses on his neck and scratches on his biceps. It didn't take long for his resolve to succumb, finally giving into your pleas. He holds your hips tighter, releasing a groan “You're going to kill me, but what a way to die.” He thrusts faster into your greedy pussy, the rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the room — and probably in the hotel hallway.

You moan louder, tugging his hair. “Fuck it! Yes baby, let it out, scream my name.” He grunts, delivering a slap on one of your thighs before holding them even tighter, using them to keep you in place while he fucks you. “Johnny!” You cry out in pleasure, the head of his cock nudging a sweet spot inside of you. He smirks proudly, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. “Make them jealous, honey, scream louder!” He commands, an unquenchable fire in his eyes “Make them wish they were fucking like we do.” He kisses you hungrily, swallowing your moans, his pace never faltering. You feel it coming, your inner walls clenching tightly around him, gripping his girth as if it were a vital part of you.

He sucks his breath in surprise and moans, breaking the kiss. He doubles his efforts, thrusting harder inside your needy pussy, the soggy sounds making his eyes roll back, for him it was like hearing a sinphony. Someone knocks on the door, making your eyes widen. You try to push Johnny but he simply shakes his head, keeping his pace. “I'll take care of that later. Come, let it go for me, my love” He pleads breathlessly, his hips starting to grind, nudging your clit on his pubic bone.

You lose your voice, calling out his name as you tremble from your orgasm. Johnny groans and follows right after, filling your insides with his warm seed, making sure to flood it. After three or four thrusts, he pulls his cock out, a wet pop escaping from your pussy. You take a breath, eyes closed blissfully. Your lover watches you with a warm smile “You look so beautiful, dear” He kisses your cheek and leaves the bed, pulling the sheets to cover your vulnerable body. You blow a kiss to him. "Rest now, but we're not done yet." Johnny winks.

He sighs as he pulls a random pair of sweatpants on, reaching for his wallet before walking to the door, hoping you two won't be expelled from the hotel yet.

a/n: I'm glad you guys don't believe when I say I'm going to write something that isn't smut.

taglist: @drugs-and-daddyissues ♡

-- If you want to be tagged, just dm me!

[gorgeys]

enemies to lovers with santana lopez

you and santana hate each other. you know it, she knows it, everyone knows it. until the lines start to blur.

word count: 1150 warnings: kissing a/n: this idea came to mind during my 47th glee rewatch and i'm lowk a little sad this fic didn't turn out as good as i expected :(

also, if you sent me a yellowjackets ask, i'm working on it! i've been a little busy lately but i'm going to try to get them done asap!!

you pressed your hand to your forehead as you reread the same chunk of the textbook you had been stuck on for the past ten minutes.  using your free period to study for your math test had seemed like a good idea, but it really only stressed you out more.

you look up when the door to the otherwise empty classroom swings open and groan when you see who it is.

"don't think i don't know what you're doing," she says, charging toward you.  she stops on the other side of the desk you're sitting at with her arms defensively crossed over her chest.

"hello to you too," you say before reverting your gaze back to the book.  despite your attempts to ignore her, she continues.

"i see you with schue," santana says, slapping her hands onto the table top and leaning forward so she's completely towering over you. her gaze is anything but kind. 

"i don't know what you're talking about," you mindlessly mumble, head still in the book and finger re-tracing one of the lines.

she suddenly slams your textbook shut, almost catching your fingers between the pages.  you finally look up at her, and she almost smiles at your irritation.

"please, everyone sees you sucking up to him and following him around like a lost puppy.  i mean, i knew you were pathetic, but i didn't realize you'd go that low just to get the solo," she says.  you swear her tone is extra venomous when it comes to you.

you roll your eyes before leaning forward onto your elbows, pushing your face closer to hers.

"you're so full of it, you know that?  not everything's about getting the solo or being head bitch in charge.  not that you would know, since you're too busy bitching and moaning all the time."

good thing the glee club wasn't here to see this.  they were beyond tired of this daily routine between the two of you.

"oh, please, birdbrain," she says without missing a beat.  "you just sit there looking all nice and pretty until there's something you want, and then you swoop in and shit all over everyone.  you might be able to fool schuester and the rest of those glee dorks, but i know you."

"and what if i was sucking up?" you suggest, abruptly standing from your chair and meeting her face-to-face.  "what would you do then?"

she notices your clenched jaw and feels accomplished knowing she's riled you up like this.  it's her favorite hobby, after all.

"it doesn't matter to me.  i'm gonna get the solo anyway," she says with a self-satisfied smirk.

"why are you even here, then?  if you're already going to beat me at auditions so badly," you say, mocking her with the pout of your lips.

there's a hitch in your well-rehearsed routine when santana pauses.  she opens her mouth to shoot back, but she's too busy staring at those shiny lips of yours.  they're taunting her.  they make her so...angry.

you raise your eyebrows when she doesn't respond right away.

"what?  cat got your tongue?" you ask, her smile falling and finding it's way to your face.

god, she just wants to wipe it right off those pretty, puffy lips.

she catches herself and steps back, arms crossing over her chest once more.  her eyes narrow at you.

"i'm sorry, your voice was just so grating that i couldn't listen any longer.  you really give berry a run for her money, you know."

"yeah, of course," you say.  as you walk around the desk, santana carefully watches you drag a manicured finger across the tabletop.  "you sure you're not a little scared?"

"scared of what? you?" she asks, turning to face you.  she scoffs as if it's outrageous.  "i'm more scared of those creepy cabbage patch kids."

"you're scared that i'm gonna beat you, right?  that's why you're here trying to scare me."

you inch closer to her, and her chest tightens because you're just so infuriating.  you and that smug grin, always taunting her.  those captivating eyes that seem to speak louder than your words.  the luscious hair she imagines pulling on just to hear you yelp out in pain.  infuriating is definitely the word.

"you're..."

santana starts, but for the first time in her life, she can't find the words.  creative insults usually rocket out of her mouth faster than the speed of light, but when you're looking at her like that, closer to her than you've ever been, her brain can't seem to function.

all she can see and smell is you.  stupid, annoying, frustrating you.

"pathetic," she finally finishes, trying to sound as sharp as usually does though it's all smoke and mirrors.

"ouch, santana, i'm so hurt," you mock, placing a hand over your chest.  a short-lived laugh leaves your lips.  "that's really the best you've got?  you've really lost your edge."  you're so lost in your own words that you don't notice the slight furrow of santana's eyebrow as her eyes flicker up and down your face.  "god, i can't wait to kill my audition and look over and see your stupid face.  i think it's gonna be even better than-"

acting on total impulse, santana reaches forward and grabs you by the sides of your neck.  you release a surprised squeal before she pulls you into her and silences you with a hard kiss.  you nearly tumble into her, but stop yourself by gripping onto her shoulders over her cheerios jacket.  without another thought, you kiss her back with just as much fervor.

santana takes charge as if she'd been planning this all along.  she forcefully backs you up until your back hits another desk and she settles between your legs.  one hand finds the small of your back and pulls your body flush against hers.

while her teeth clash with yours and she sucks harshly on your bottom lip, you can only think of how soft her lips are.  their sloppy, desperate movements convey a sense of longing that had been disguised as hate for so long.  finally, they were free to express everything she felt for you.

you thought you could kiss her for forever, but you reluctantly let her pull away for her air.  as soon as she does, the gravity of her actions sinks in.  she blinks back at you, staring at the mixture of both your lip glosses smeared all over your parted lips and chin.  still breathless, you squeeze her shoulders and try to subtly pull her back into you, but she's already stepping back.

you see the panic written all over her face before she abruptly turns and dashes out of the classroom just as quickly as she had entered.

you can only stand there, completely shell-shocked and math test totally forgotten.

you thought you hated santana lopez, but after she had walked in, rocked your world, and walked out, you weren't so sure.

[grrrrrarro]

Guys I suffer from jojo brainrot, I know its not my usual writing , but I need to get this out of my system. NO SPOILERS they/them pronouns, sfw, Request open

Also for obvious (and legal) reasons in josuke and okayasu ones reader is like 16.

Also I didnt finish jojo part4 yet so some stuff might be eee not accurate?

More jjba dating headcanons!!

Including Kars, Santana, young Joseph, Jonathan, Josuke, Speedwagon, Okuyasu

Kars

Homie will litteraly pet them. My guy has god complex, thinks that humans are so so smol and so so tiny

Picks them up like some lil baby and probably carries them around everywhere

S/o mostly just vibes in his huge mansion while Kars plots some evil emo stuff (again)

Quick reminder that this guy was doing ah mimimimi ah mimimimimi😴 for last few centuries so s/o has to explain him a lot of stuff

Imagine him getting jumpscared bcs your phone made a noise, or him just walking up to light switch and turing lights on and off repeatedly. Mans fascinated

Also guy is a walking muscle so no matter how big or smol s/o is they going to be picked up and carried around, probably he uses only one hand too btw

Pls brush his hair he will litteraly melt

Santana

...

"Human why you carry tiny talking square everywhere? Is it magical?"

My guy will take their phone and 'accidently' take 50selfies, but not in sexy way, but in 'his face is zoomed to camera and you see only his eyes and forehead' way

His love language is quality time, understanding and gifts

Hates germans btw

Will give them random stuff, like he will litteraly bring them a microwave and be like "human explain meaning of this". But also gives them shiny rocks, jewellery, hair accessories. If s/o wants a new car, my man gonna litteraly pick up first car he sees and bring it to them

I am convinced he eats food with his bare hands. S/o has to give him tutoral how to use knife and fork, he won't like it >:(

Young Joseph

Homeboy hands are everywhere, if my guy doesn't hold their hand, he is putting his hands on s/o shoulders or waist or just kisses them

Doing make-up together. And nails. And hair. All of this while shittalking his enemies and talking about all the drama.

Tequila Joseph first dragqueen in history btw

Never go on plane with him, no matter how romantinc he promises it will be. Do not

Also makes fun of Ceasar that Joseph was the first one to find a partner not him😍

S/o and Ceasar probably meet up sometimes to just complain about how dumb Joseph sometiems is😭

Will litteraly do anything to impress them frfr

Jonathan

Not boyfriend, but Husband material

My guy will be on walk with his homie speedwagon and litteraly act like teenager girl with crush. All blushy, shy and asking for advices

Gives them handfuls of flowers, but like Jonathan's sized handful (alot)

Loves walking with s/o and holding hands ofc

My boy will blush and die if s/o does first move

Pls s/o beat dio up he sucks

The best boy husband

Josuke

Bros gonna be so protective, like fr my guy will be worried if s/o goes to shop and doesn't come back in more than 20minutes

He will blush if s/o tries to hold his hand

Mumbles a lot about hair routine and hair products, and probably likes to comb s/o hair

Okayasu probably cried when he found out that Josuke has a partner btw

The sweetest boy alive

Guy will accidentally spoil them. Also they are basicly immortal due to all crazy daimon stuff

If s/o sees stands... OMG PLS pls hug his lil man, his stand i mean. It looks very hugable

Playing video games when s/o and josuke lied to his mom that you came over to teach him some school stuff>>

Okuyasu

This dude

This guy

Will litteraly beat anyone up, for no reason anyways. He just do be like that.

He is very dumb, please be patient

Isn't romantic, he tries to act cool and tough, but he is unintentionally cute! Like he will go to s/o house in middle of day, knock on door and he like "sup babygrill I bought you some ice cream"

If you guys play any kind of competitive game he might let them win! But he never tell them that of course

Also he is very physical, but not in romantic/sexy way but in 'dub me up homie/sup give me high five' hes very bromance. he also enjoys just leaning on them, like yall just stand waiting for bus and this dude will put like half his body weight on them

Once he had a nightmare and called them at 3am

Speedwagon

Btw sorry that characters are all over place and not organised, I am sleeby

My guy will shank anyone for you babe

Talks, a lot. So if s/o is a listener type, they will get along well

Goes to Jonathan and asks for advices about relationships!

S/o steals his hat and he pretends that he's offended, but pls dont stop you look cute!

My guy is very very...unorganised... total mess of a men if it comes to life. I dont even know if he has a house btw

Cuddles on couch when he's sure that noone is around>>>

Will read them to bed if that helps s/o fall asleep

He has poor eyesight but he doesnt wear glasses. Bonk him pls

[dioslesbianwife]

🐐 anon in the houseeee!!! Wanted to firstly say I'm glad to see you doing better, being sick seriously sucks dude!!!! Your an amazing writer and the fact you prioritised us is crazy 😢 !! Your so sweet, I hope you've been resting well dude! - please take ur time, I do not mind waiting for my ask ^_^!

May I request Joefoes with a nonverbal teenager? (With santana !) Who is trying to express their love for the foe ? Trying to express they see them as a parent ☹️♥️

hii 🐐! thank you for the kind words- yeah i really felt bad not posting for a little while lol since it means a lot to me that people give me requests of things they think i can write well- like it blows my mind people like my blog lol. anyway yep i can do that-- hope you enjoy and ty for requesting <333

Dio

At first, Dio doesn’t think much of your attachment. He assumes you admire him for his power.

The moment he realizes you see him as a father figure? He freezes.

You gently place a hand over your heart, then point at him.

"…Me? Your father?"

He scoffs, but his voice wavers slightly.

"You aim high, child."

Doesn’t stop you.

Actually starts acting like a father, subtly watching over you and making sure you're safe, well-fed, and respected. If anyone dares to mock you for being nonverbal, they’re dead.

Kars

He respects your nonverbal communication and understands your gestures better than most.

When you first hug him or try to convey that you see him as a father, he just… stares at you.

"Why?"

You point to your heart and then to him. Your expression is so earnest.

His expression softens, just slightly.

He never says it, but he acknowledges your bond in his own way.

Lets you stay close to him and will destroy anyone who disrespects you.

Wamuu

The best at understanding your feelings. He’s deeply empathetic and patient.

Notices that you struggle to express emotions with words, so he encourages gestures.

"You do not need to speak for me to hear you."

The first time you press a hand to your chest and then touch his arm, he stiffens.

"…You see me as a mentor? No… as family?"

When you nod, he kneels to your level and places a firm hand on your shoulder.

"Then I shall protect you as one of my own."

Would die for you, no hesitation.

Esidisi

Dramatic sobbing.

"My child, you love me?"

You nod.

Instant bear hug.

Squeezes you so hard you almost can’t breathe.

Will proudly brag to the other Pillar Men about how you see him as a father.

Affectionate, ruffles your hair, and calls you his kid all the time.

"Don’t worry, my dear, if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll BURN THEM ALIVE."

Best emotional support dad.

Santana

Confused but intrigued.

He’s not used to human emotions, but he watches you carefully and starts picking up on patterns.

When you first sign or gesture that you see him as a parent, he tilts his head.

Pokes his own chest. "Me?"

You nod and repeat the gesture.

He slowly reaches out and pats your head.

From that moment on, he watches over you.

You often find him sitting near you, silently keeping you company.

The first time he sees you upset, he carefully wraps you in his arms with his version of a hug.

Yoshikage Kira

His first instinct is to panic because what does he do with a kid that loves him???

But when you gently place a small, heart-shaped object in his hand and smile at him…

…He freezes.

His heart pounds in a way that isn’t fear or annoyance.

Oh no. He cares.

He never openly acknowledges it, but you notice he starts acting like a father anyway.

Makes sure you eat well, fixes your clothes, and even lets you take over one of his drawers to store your things.

If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way? They disappear.

Diavolo & Doppio

Doppio: Immediate dad mode.

"You love us?! REALLY?!" Hugs you immediately.

Will proudly call you his kid.

Diavolo: "…What nonsense is this?"

But when you keep showing silent gestures of love, he grows unnerved.

"You… truly see me as your father?"

When you nod, he turns away, but his hands are shaking.

He’s touched but terrified.

Doppio is the warmth, while Diavolo is the silent protector.

Enrico Pucci

This man tries SO HARD to pretend he doesn’t care.

But when you place your hand on your heart and then his, his entire body stiffens.

He inhales sharply and closes his eyes.

"…I see."

He doesn’t acknowledge it out loud, but you notice he treats you more gently afterward.

Will subtly place a hand on your shoulder when you’re distressed.

If you leave him little gifts (like folded notes or small trinkets), he keeps every single one.

Funny Valentine

When you first try to express your feelings, he pauses.

Watches you carefully.

"You see me as your guardian?"

You nod.

He considers this deeply. Then, he kneels down and rests a hand on your shoulder.

"Then you are under my protection."

From that moment on, he treats you with fatherly patience.

Encourages you to communicate in whatever way is most comfortable for you.

Diego Brando

"What the hell? I’m not your dad."

But then you nuzzle into his coat during a cold night, and he freezes.

"…Ugh. Fine. Just don’t drool on me."

Lets you stay.

When you give him little drawings or signs of affection, he just grumbles but keeps all of them.

Will growl at anyone who messes with you.

Tooru

Mocking at first.

"Aww, you see me as a father figure? That’s kinda cute-"

But then you keep doing it.

Leaving little drawings of you and him, sticking by his side, looking at him with trust.

…He doesn’t know how to process it.

Eventually, he stops teasing and starts acting the part.

If you get overwhelmed or frustrated, he swoops in immediately.

"Hey, hey- what’s wrong? C’mere, kid."

Becomes pretty protective.

[williamwheeler]

"santana, too mean. kurt, too controversial. mercedes, i've said it before, i'll say it again: lazy b-o-n-e-s. the clear winner is rachel."

insane that what jesse says in funeral – which is framed as him being an asshole who just wants rachel back – is what the narrative will punish these characters for in season 3.

santana is too mean. nothing new here. it's true that she was being awful to finn. so, really, she had it coming when finn decided to Fight Back by... outing her to the entire school. which led to her being outed to the entire state. but really it was santana's own fault for being such a meany. so finn gets to sing girls just wanna have fun and all is good again. what the hell, sure.

kurt is too controversial. always has been. the gay kid who dresses weird and has a high voice, who can't pass for straight. he tries out for tony (a role he needs for his college application just as much as rachel needs maria) but, despite being talented, he's just too controversial. so he tries again and this time he actually gets laughed at, both by his peers and by his educators. kurt's special, a unicorn, and while that will always be his greatest strength it will also be something that prevents him from getting the songs he wants, the roles he wants. and he just has to accept it.

mercedes is too lazy, apparently.

it's funny that in night of neglect the explanation of Why is mercedes not as much of a star as rachel is that she's not assertive enough. which is just. not true. ever since day one, mercedes has been the one who most frequently challenges rachel for solos. but, unlike rachel (most of the time), she is willing to put her feelings aside and be a team player. she doesn't hog the spotlight all for herself, and she doesn't storm off when things don't go her way (until s3 and she is Immediately kicked off the club.)

but fast forward just a couple of episodes to funeral, where mercedes is being undeniably assertive ("don't bother warming up, rachel. i'm going to wrap this thing up like a christmas present.") so the reasoning for why mercedes isn't as big of a star as rachel – that jesse actually changes to her not being a star at all – turns into her being lazy. which comes out of nowhere really. (really, what other explanation is there for this other than mercedes being black and overweight.)

and then season 3 starts off gaslighting us that "mercedes can't dance" and "mercedes is lazy" and "mercedes is uncooperative" by having her showing up late and complaining or not showing up at all to booty camp. she gets yelled at by mr schue. as it's all over shows, she feels alone and like everyone is against her. and i can't blame her for that since no one stands up for her (and it's been years and i'm still upset at how much kurtcedes was abandoned in favor of hummelberry. just let him have more than one friend jesus christ.)

meanwhile, "the clear winner is rachel" is basically the tone for the season. rachel gets maria even though she admits mercedes was better. rachel gets to be prom queen. rachel gets into nyada despite butchering her audition because of her solo at nationals (and imagine that everyone that failed their audition invited carmen tibideaux to see them perform again, would she go? insanity.)

this isn't me saying i hate rachel and that she doesn't deserve good things happening to her. but one of the things that made me fall in love with her was her ambition and her willingness to dust herself off and get back up after failing – she knows she's talented and she won't give up until everyone knows it too. so, to have her being coddled and getting everything handed to her leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

in conclusion, season 3 sucks.

[vendetta-if]

what would the cast have as their social media username?

Ooh, interesting! 🤔 I suck at coming up with social media handles/username 😂 I'll try to do for the ROs, but if you guys have any other ideas, do share in the comment section or in the reblogs 😆

Ash

@ pyro_maniac

They made theirs when they were still a teenager and I think it's fitting that they have some edgy sounding username relating to their power. Like, one day, they just saw the word pyromaniac and looked up what it meant and was like, "Yeah, sounds good enough for me, plus it sounds cool." They then stick with it because they just never bother to change or make a new account for.

Rin

@ rinaikawa

Boring but also professional and straight to the point.

Santana

@ sanvaldez_97

The classic first and last name plus year of birth, probably because the username they went for has already been taken, so they just add an underscore and their birth year.

Skylar

@ sky_moore

For superheroes, there are usually two types: Those who are more open publicly (not-so-secret personal life, people know their real identity behind the mask and what they look like, and stuff) and those who are more private and try their best to completely separate their personal life from their career (if successful enough, people won't even know your real face and real name and identity).

Skylar is more of the first category; they are already the son of the Mayor anyway, so they just use their real name for their social media handle. And Skylar still actually manages their own social media and sometimes posts some random stuff from their daily life or respond to some lucky fans' comments.

The upside to that is that their fans feel really connected to them and feel like they're more down-to-earth; the downside is that it fosters parasocial relationships even faster and worse than Yvette ever did 😬

If you're wondering, Yvette is kind of the first category, but not really to the point like Skylar. People know what she looks like and her real name, but she rarely shares really personal and private info about her life on social media or TV or to her fans. I think she'll have PR people manage her official social media accounts while she keeps a secret, private accounts she uses daily to just scroll through stuff.

Oh and almost forgot, but Newton is more of the second type. Only his colleagues and some fellow superheroes kind of saw his face and probably knew his first name. But now that he's pretty much close to fully retire, he doesn't really need to be so secretive anymore since he will leave the spotlight and his superhero persona behind him soon for good and just focus on his personal life.

[receivedhope]

i don't think season 4 is bad and neither do you, because aside from the newbies being such a bore (except kitty, nothing but respect for my force of evil gijinka) i honestly think most episodes and story lines were pretty solid lol. at least on the NY side!

this take being as popular as it is honestly just makes me realize no wonder propaganda works, because literally so many beloved concepts and arcs come from s4 like blam, blaine becoming a real boy in general, hummelpezberry roomies, santana getting Actual things to do, TBU, glease, vogue!kurt (♥) - i could honestly go on lol... most of these are just the ones i personally like off the top of my head, so im sure someone who is not as kurtpilled as i am could rattle off some other aspects of it theyve liked.

i think the writing quality already took a dive by season 3. like, kicking off the TT plotline was a little clumsy, after will kicks santana out of the glee club, she couldve just joined the TT instead of rejoining the ND for what, like an episode? s3 is full of moments like these, where you can tell that the writers themselves had NO idea what theyd be doing next episode lol...

if you REALLY wanted to end glee on a deserved high note, season 1's Sectionals is the only correct pick, as the first 13 episodes tell a very complete story - iirc RIB were unsure if the show would get renewed at all, so i really think they sort of intended it to be the last episode.

the only people allowed to hate on season 4 are those who watched glee while it was airing, if you are a zoomie who binged it in 2020 and made a living out of hummelpezberry roomie edits on tiktok you have NO excuse to say you hate it, the old fans WILL NOT FUCK YOU!!! youve just been MEMED into saying s4 sucks, WAKE UP. the show is over and concluded, the most you can do is enjoy it for what it is, im afraid.

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

A/N: So, I was working on a story and then I couldn't edit it anymore... Probably cuz I took too long. Oops. Sorry @starry-fool

Sing With Me?

The Hat of Fate can burn.

Because of that accursed thing, you were now sitting in the living room of one Quinn Fabray. As the new kid in school, she scared the ever living shit out of you. While she wasn't quite the HBIC anymore, Quinn was still quite intimidating. What sucked further was that the two of you couldn't agree on ANYTHING.

"What about this one?"

"We've done that song already."

"This one?"

"No."

You had been at this for the past hour. Almost every suggestion you had was rejected one way or another. Quinn wasn't helping either. It was as if she wasn't even trying. It was frustrating.

"You suggest something then!" You groan, throwing your arms in the air. "Even if you don't care, it's still an assignment."

The blonde just rolls her eyes and levels you with a glare.

"Look. It doesn't matter anyway. Rachel and Finn are gonna sing, Mr. Schue will fawn over them and the rest of us are shoved into the sidelines. That's just how it is."

"That can change! There are so many great voices in the club. There's always a chance."

At that, Quinn slams her hand onto the table, startling you into silence.

"Things aren't going to change! Why bother trying!? If Mercedes and Santana can't, then we definitely have no shot. So just give up, dumbass!"

The other girl gets up and stomps away, leaving you stunned. You try not to cry. You were never great when someone yelled at you. Regardless, after a moment, you slowly gather your things and move to put your shoes on and leave. Why fight a losing battle?

-----+++++-----

Quinn felt horrible. After hearing the front door close, she knew she screwed up. She knew she forgot the main reason for the Glee Club's existence.

Acceptance. Love of singing. Love of each other.

She had to apologize, but you weren't making it easy. The next day at school, Quinn couldn't find you at all outside of class. It was clear you were avoiding her and it made her feel even worse.

By the time lunch came around, Quinn nearly gave up her search. It wasn't until she heard rhythmic tapping coming from an empty classroom. Peeking her head in, the blonde finds you sitting, headphones on while tapping a pencil onto the desk. She was about to get your attention, but then you started singing.

I could play any game with you

I could say what you want me to

I could lie, I could lie

She listens to your voice and suddenly realizes that your voices would mesh incredibly well together without her changing her natural tone too much. So she stands there, listening further while you continue to lose yourself into the song. The song was unfamiliar, but it was easy enough for her to pick up the chorus.

So she does and joins in the next time it comes around.

Even through your headphones, you hear Quinn's voice and it startles you.

"Quinn? What are you doing here?" You ask, standing up and pulling the headphones from your head.

"Looking for you," she replies with a smile. "I wanted to apologize for last night. Honestly, I shouldn't care about the drama and politicking. I've been in too much of it and I'm tired." She shakes her head. "Let's just have fun and sing, yeah? That's what we're in the club for, right?"

Her hand reaches out towards yours and waits. It was an offering. Of friendship? Of teamwork? All of the above? You weren't sure, but you were willing to find out. Your hand grasps hers and you look into those shining hazel eyes.

"Let's figure out what to sing then."

Quinn pulls you out of the classroom and you walk alongside her.

"Actually, I really liked the song you were singing. Teach me that one?"

Her hand never lets go of yours.

-----+++++-----

In the span of the week, you and Quinn work on your duet. Together, you figure out the lyrics and arrangement relatively quickly and dedicate the rest of your time to rehearsal. It doesn't take long for you to notice a shift in your relationship though.

You're sitting in Quinn's living room again. While you were opposite each other, you were still sitting close enough for your knees to touch. Quinn's voice blends with yours as you practice. But at a certain lyric, your eyes meet and there's a sudden tension in the room.

And if I go, will you love me

Will you love me when I come back

You were performing tomorrow. You were going to show the club that a performance doesn't need the best voices. You just needed to have fun. You and Quinn had worked hard to show this.

But this? This seemed like so much more.

The singing had ebbed as soon as you locked eyes. The air was so heavy, you could hardly breathe. It wasn't until Quinn's eyes flicked to your lips did you look away.

"Heh... I think we have that, what did Mr. Schue say? Vocal chemistry?" You say awkwardly. You could feel Quinn's eyes boring into you. "M-maybe we'll convince him to change things up, yeah?"

Suddenly, there was a hand on your cheek and you were staring into hazel eyes again.

"It doesn't matter if Mr. Schue changes things," Quinn says. Did she get even closer to you? She got even closer to you. You can feel her breath against your face. "But maybe we can still shake things up a little."

The smirk she pulls draws your attention to her lips and now you can't look away. You lean in and press your lips to hers. It starts out soft and tentative. You feel Quinn let out a soft sigh before pressing a little further into you. When you finally part, a small laugh escapes from you.

"Yeah, that'll shake things up."

Quinn just pulls you against her again.

"And as great as that is, I just want to 'sing' with you again."

Another kiss, plus many more, follow. You don't end up rehearsing anymore. Things were more than perfect.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Give Me Your Heart, Make It Real, Or Else Forget About It

Pairing(s): Manolo Sanchez x Reader, Manolo Sanchez x Maria Posada, Joaquin Mondragon x Reader

Warnings: soft nsfw, implications, break ups, Manolo might be OOC since it’s been a while that i’ve written for the book of life, bsf to lovers, gonna try writing for gn reader for first time, probably not as fluffy as anon may have wanted, a lil angsty cuz that’s my bread and butter, world expansion, alcohol consumption, both reader and Manolo are of age, dancing, young horny adults

Words: 8029 (jfc this has got to be my longest fic ever. fingers crossed it doesn’t suck lol)

Summary: Only one thing comes to mind when faced with mending your friend’s broken heart: drinking.

* inspired by Santana’s “Smooth” 

*Man now I really want pan dulce

“Jesus, Manolo.” You breathe out when you open your front door. His eyes were red and puffy, shoulders slouched forward utterly defeated. Even his hair, meticulously styled was a mess that drooped over his face. It was starting to get dark, street lamps were barely starting to be lit. 

When he brings his big brown eyes to look up at you, you know whatever happened was bad. Worse than anything you had seen him go through before. Your heart plummets. The worst thing was seeing your best friend in shambles. 

His lips move, about to say something but thinks better about it when a glossy sheen grows over his eyes like he’s about to cry. Immediately you usher him inside your hacienda and settle him down on your sofa. He looked like a giant sitting on it, especially as you wrap him in one of your thick, quilted blankets your grandmother had made you. You scurry to your little cocina to grab a warm drink for him and perhaps some pan dulce if he wanted it although you doubt he has much of an appetite. Upon your return, Manolo is blankly staring at your wall. Normally lively eyes were dull, nearly lifeless. That scared you more than anything. You put aside what you brought him on a small end table and get on your knees in front of him, imploring to tell you what was wrong. His hands were large in your’s when you grab onto them and pull them close to your chest. Never before had Manolo been as broken as he was there on your sofa. Not even with the whole thing involving literal immortals like La Muerte and Xibalba. When Xibalba fooled everyone into thinking Maria was dead. Absolutely cruel of them to use your friends’ lives in a messed up bet just because they were oh so bored of immortality. Thankfully since then, life in San Angel returned to relative normality. Or as normal as San Angel could be. 

He wasn’t ready to talk. Not just yet. The only thing you knew he needed right now was to bury his face in your shoulder as you held him in your arms. His shoulders tremble and you feel wet plops against your shoulder. Allowing him to take however long necessary until he gathered his thoughts. The only thing you could think of that could put him in such a state was something bad happening to Maria. They definitely couldn’t have broken up. They were still in love with each other after all those years of waiting and pining. Surely their love would last forever. Unlike you and Joaquin who’d been doomed from the beginning. That had only lasted a year before things disintegrated between you and Joaquin. One of those situations where it turned out you loved him more than he loved you. Not everyone could have a fairytale relationship like Manolo and Maria. Funny how back then you were in Manolo’s position and he’d been the one consoling you. 

What you had thought was a baseless fear was actually reality for him. 

They had broken up.

Even as he told you the lead up, you still didn’t want to believe it. Sometimes love wasn’t enough to keep two people together. Maria has always had an adventurous spirit. It led her to many escapades and mishaps that your parents didn’t necessarily like. She got you and the boys into plenty of trouble. Her fun loving nature was what broke her bond with Manolo. She wanted to travel, see more of the great big world out there. Manolo though, he was all too happy staying in San Angel. While his family no longer walked on this plane of existence, he loathed the idea of leaving his home. Not after all he went through to get back and save it. Plus you and Joaquin were still here. He couldn’t up and leave his best friends. Maria exasperated herself with begging him to go with her, for she was leaving either way. She loved her work at the orphanage she missed traveling Europe. There was still so much of it she hadn’t seen. Both tried to come to a compromise but could not come up with one that would would satisfy them. Manolo was equally set with not leaving. He’d give Maria everything and anything but not this. His home was everything to him. All his memories of his family reside here. the last pieces of his father and grandmother.

While not as close to Maria as you were with Manny, you knew she would be equally devastated with this drastic turn of events. She’d loved Manolo, even as little kids you remember Maria as having a soft spot for the guitarrista. She didn’t have any other friends besides Manolo, Joaquin and you. You wonder, albeit bitterly, if she had sought comfort for Joaquin. After all, she had been the catalyst for your break up with him. He was still in love with her but accepted that she had chosen Manolo. You would always be second best to him. Unlike Maria, you had no great beauty and no talent to boast of. Not even your parents were of incredible birth like the great General Posada. They had humble jobs that kept you and your siblings fed and a roof over your head. You never held any of these things against her though. She was modest and kind and was someone who would help you up if you ever fell down. 

Finishing up his retelling, he slumps further into the sofa; weariness causing deep set lines under his eyes. He didn’t want to be alone in his own casa. He would be all alone there. You told him he could stay at your small house, for as long as he needed. Providing him with blankets and pillows, you leave him in your living room to get much required rest. Even when you woke up the following morning, Manolo was still sleeping like the dead with the blankets wrapped around him as tightly as a tortilla in a burrito. You let him sleep and go about your day, having sent word to your parents that you wouldn’t be able to work at the family panaderia. Manolo slept like the dead. Even when you broke one of your clay bowls as you toyed around with recipes to propose to your father with. He didn’t even twitch. Several times you checked to verify he was still breathing. Still alive. This was Manolo’s first ever breakup. You were much the same after your own. He rouses at your gentle prompting, reminding him to eat or drink water before going back to the numbness of sleep. 

Two days pass like this, with Manolo talking a little bit more each day but still looking blanched. When you return to work and tell your parents what has been going on, your mother says in inappropriate to have Manolo staying with you for as long as he has. You want to support your friend though and ignore her wary glances that she shoots you. 

After bidding him goodbye one morning, you make your way to work. Your little brothers are already under foot, running around the store and getting it ready to open for the day. In the cocina you hear your mother shouting at your brothers instructions and reminders as if they hadn’t been working here since the day they started walking. Mama made sure her children didn’t have idle hands. She’d even send the boys out to the town center to sell churros, not understanding why they would come back with white frosted churros and no sales. In time you hope she learns that little kids are not responsible sales people.

“There you are.” Your mama exclaims as she whirls out of the cocina and to the front counter. She’s already tossing you an apron. Prattling off the list of orders and tasks for the day, you nod absentmindedly while reaching around your back to tie together the straps of your stained apron you’d had for years. When the boys get too rowdy for her liking, she snaps at them, brandishing a wooden spoon and light threats.

She sighs and pushes you into the kitchen. “Go on. Your pap needs help with Senora Bigote’s order of three dozen conchas for her conquian night with the other ladies in her group.”

Papa is kneading dough with his strong hands that you’ve personally seen split a whole apple perfectly in half. He’s a big man and looks comical in the panaderia’s kitchen. In one corner of the room sat a wood fire oven, ready to be worked and seemingly standing in vigilance over the cocina. Automatically, you grab large baking trays and place them next to your father. You give him a quick peck on his cheek before grabbing half of the smooth, elastic dough to start shaping them.

He makes a grunting noise as he gently stops you. “I can handle the conchas. Start on the wedding cake for the Torres’.”

Obediently, you wipe off your hands and set out to gather everything you needed. You pass by clay pots and bowls used by generations of family bakers.

Solemnly your mind travels back to Manolo whose probably still fast asleep on your couch. There would be no wedding for them after all. Manolo always said he wanted you to make their reception cake when the time came. you’d already planned the flavors, layers, fruit and decorations. An occasion that had been anticipated for a while. Alas, no one would get to see the splendor of the cake you would have created for your best friend. 

Your mama takes care of the front of house often leaving just you and your dad in charge of the actual baking. 

Focused on your task, you lose track of time. When your mom goes into the kitchen to take over for you, it’s already lunch. Gently, you rotate your neck to work out the kinks and give your back a good stretch. You push open the half door that connects the front of the store to the kitchens. Both of your brothers had been sent out once again to sell churros in the heart of San Angel. You check the clock that fixed above the front door, wondering how Manolo was doing.

Front door bell jingling, your eyes move back down to the moustached face of Joaquin as he enters. You’re more than confused seeing him there. He’d avoided the panaderia after the break up. Even he shifts awkwardly in front of your widened gaze. His lush moustache wiggles as he tries to find the proper words. 

Saving him the effort of speaking first, you ask him with saccharine politeness “What can I get for you today sir?” Two years the both of you had been separated, but you still felt tender once you were back in his presence. 

Joaquin exhales and rubs at the back of his neck.  “Hey. Long time no see?” In reply you simply deadpan your face into a neutral stare. If he was going to beat around the bush you might as well get your mama to chase him out. He was wasting your time. Thankfully he was aware and gulps before continuing. “I gather you know about Manolo and Maria?”

Ah, of course. You stiffly nod “Yeah. Manolo showed up at my door the other day. He’s been sleeping on my sofa.”

He lets out a clipped laugh making something ugly in you unfurl. There’s a cruel little smirk subtly tugging up his lips but he hides it with his hand. “Of course he did.”

You didn’t bother to hide the sharpness of your frown, your elbows on the wooden counter and narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Instantly regret slaps across his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Really. I came here because we have to do something. This an’t be how their relationship ends. Not after everything they’ve been through.”

You’d tried plenty of times to get Manolo to go back and talk with her. “It’s none of our business.”

Squinting his eyes at you, Joaquin places his hands on his hips. “You can’t be serious. Manolo literally died for Maria! They-They can’t end over something as stupid as this!”

“Apparently it’s not that stupid if it’s caused such a rift.” You counter smoothly.

A moment passes where neither of you say anything, just stare at one another. His nose scrunches up in frustration. Nostrils flare and chest heaving as he tries to prevent himself from saying something he’d truly regret. But you wore him thin. You’d always been able to get under his skin so easily. As kids you liked teasing him because he made it so easy. Nowadays it took a little more to ruffle him. 

“Maybe you’re secretly happy about this.”

This merry go round. You were familiar with this ride. “Not this again.”

When you roll your eyes, Joaquin prickles. “You and Manolo have always been close. Maybe too close to be just platonic.”

This had been a constant point of contention when you were still together. That had never been a problem before when you were kids. Those were simpler times when emotions such as jealousy wasn’t as toxic as in adulthood.

Remembering your parents in the back, you lower your voice. “Look, if you want to talk this over with Manolo, be my guest. I’m not poking my nose in his business unless he asks me to. I don’t want to talk about this here.”

His eyes follow your’s to the still swinging door. He understood and immediately straightens. If your mom caught Joaquin in her store, she’d froth at the mouth before lunging at him. Mama had never liked him and was more than happy when you told her you’d broken up. From his face you could tell Joaquin wanted to argue with you more. The medals that decorated his chest clink together as he lets go of a heavy breath. Reluctantly he turns his back to you and leaves the store. 

Joaquin’s appearance leaves you agitated for the rest of the day until your mom could no longer suffer through your sulky attitude. Your brothers having returned some time after lunch, its you whose being pushed out of the door with her wooden spoon. You’re of no use to her in that state and you were better off at home. She was right. You’d wanted to go home anyway to see how your best friend was faring. 

Your shoes click against the cobblestone streets that lead to your hacienda. An orange tint painted the sky and buildings. You many not be able to mend his heart right away but you know music and dancing always managed to revive his spirits. Anything that might act as a soothing balm for him. Worth a shot.

Front door unlocked, you turn the knob without any resistance. Manolo was still on your sofa but now he was sitting up. Recognition brings life to his eyes. He offers you a half-hearted smile just like with the other days you’d come home to him. “Welcome home.”

You go to his side. “Did Joaquin come over?”

He nods. You want to congratulate him on actually brushing his hair today. “Yeah. Tried to talk me into going back to Maria. But. . .” Manolo shakes his head.  “There’s no more talking left to be done with her. You know how Maria is.”

Yes, once she made a decision, she didn’t go back on it. General Posada tried for years to rein in that part of her to no avail. She was too much like her mother who had also left San Angel to pursue travel.

“And you’re really sure you don’t want to go with her? You won’t be gone forever.”

Sadly chuckling, his shoulders sag forward. “I did enough traveling in the Land of the Remembered and the Land of the Forgotten.”

Pursing your lips you affectionately pet his hair and feel him relax a little under your touch. “Why don’t you go clean up and come with me to listen to some good live music.”

From the down turn of his mouth,  you know he wants to reject the offer. You’d let him. Of course you wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to. You wanted this to be his choice, his decision. An after thought seems to change his mind though as he slowly nods his head. “Okay. That sounds like it could be fun.” For your benefit, he puts energy into his smile before you leave him to get ready and head for your room so you could change and freshen up as well. You’re sure there is flour dusting the top of your head making you look like an old lady. 

In the local cantina, they’d recently been hiring more live entertainment which included the Rodriguez brothers and even young Ignacio who Manolo had been teaching guitar to. Plus others in the neighborhood as well as musicians from nearby towns. The night life was really picking up in your once quiet San Angel. Plays were performed in the old bullfighting arena now, equally titillating the masses. Torches would illuminate the outside walls and if you lived close enough to the arena, you could hear the boisterous laughter of the crowd. It was nice to walk through the town at night, listening to joyful people. All four of you had gone out to enjoy such activities. And when you ended things with Joaquin, you and Manolo made it a point to have best friends night. They were always the best. Drinks were had (never too much because you always worked early in the mornings at the panaderia) and by the end of it your feet were about ready to fall off thanks to all the dancing. He always got you out of your reserved shell. You really shined brightly around him. Unsurprising that Joaquin may have been jealous by your closeness to the former matador. You’d always told him that was nonsense. Manolo had always been your friend. Just friend. Joaquin continually persisted that there was something more to your feelings for Manolo. 

Funny because Maria never saw an issue with how much time the two of you spent together. Sometimes she would even join in on your revelry. You weren’t jealous toward Maria being with him. Joaquin just likes to say stupid things. He still had to work on himself, undo whatever whispers were left over from Xibalba.

The both of you having dolled yourselves up (you had to admit that Manolo cut quite the figure in a matador outfit), you head out and down the street arm in arm. A lightness in his step that you were happy to see. His smile was still a watered down version of what it normally is. The goal of tonight was to get him out of his own head. Even if it’s just for a few hours. 

That night’s air tastes sweet on your tongue as you and Manolo are already laughing when coming upon the cantina. Music from inside so loud that its making the ground softly vibrate against the soles of your shoes. 

Manolo leans into you to ask “Do you know whose playing tonight?”

You list one out of town band and two local performers. From the entrance to the bar, everything becomes hazy, almost dream like as you and Manolo throw back drinks and grow more deliriously jubilant. Thankfully the music was good, aiding to the overall atmosphere. As music plays on, glasses were raised, you watch a glimmer of life return to Manolo’s eyes. Liquor infused a vibrant glow to your surroundings and the intricate patterns of the tiles beneath your feet. You spend time reminiscing of days past. Manolo couldn’t resist bringing up your terrible partners before Joaquin took that position. You tease back in return by making fun of how hopelessly moon eyed he’d been around Maria when you were kids. Thankfully it made him laugh instead of diminishing his smile. You hadn’t meant to bring Maria up but you’re happy that he didn’t react negatively to it. That was the only hitch and was quickly forgotten.

Manolo’s shoulders bump against your’s as he laughs or when he bobs to the flow of melody. He’s having an authentic good time. Relief blooms in your chest. Good. That was really good. 

The band playing strum their guitars with fervor and an impulsive spirit rose within you. You stand and extend your hand to Manolo, playful mischief lighting your smile. 

He lets out a soft chuckle and regards your hand. Encouraged by the music and your inviting gesture, he takes your hand, his lips curling into a reluctant but genuine smile. The two of you stumble, making your way to the center floor where others have already coupled off in small groups. Laughing about your clumsy feet, you cling to Manolo to make sure you don’t take a tumble. Manolo’s chest rumbles in his own giggling as his hands securely tighten on you. 

Your dancing is simple swaying at first as both of you try and find your groove. Two puzzle pieces finding their fit. He’s twirling you around, making you dizzy but you enjoy the lightheaded buzzing that it delivers to your head. Manolo insists you spin him as well and you do your best but he’s taller than you and he has to bend down a little bit in order for you to complete the move. You feel like children again. 

In the midst of rhythmic, drunken chaos, something extraordinary began to take shape between you that took you some time to recognize. The goofiness that was making the air silly and fun turns into something else. Manolo’s laughter, a sound as familiar to you as your own heart beat, melds seamlessly with the guitar chords in the background. His footing and turns grow surer with each passing minute as he acclimates to your pace. Distance between you shrinking as your bodies synchronized to the melody. Fingers brush against fingers and glances began to hold more weight than previously. A heaviness in his dark eyes when they land on your face. It makes your heart spasm in your chest.

You want to pin it on the alcohol flowing in your system. Maybe even the lighting in the bar that sharpened Manolo’s already exquisite face. The hitching beneath your breast as you become aware of just how close he is to you and the parting of his lips as his breathing becomes strained. And by his blown out pupils, you could only surmise that he was going through the same odd feelings you were. His Adam’s apple bobs nervously, his yearning becoming profoundly clear as he leans his face closer to your’s; drawn to you like a magnet. 

Realizing the hungry fire that ate away in your belly was attraction and want. For Manolo. Your best friend who had just broken up with the love of his life just a few days ago. 

His nose brushes against your’s. He says something, low enough that you would have been able to hear despite the loud music. Your brain is malfunctioning though. Unable to process his words.

This wasn’t right. Whatever it was.

You had too much respect for yourself to be his rebound. 

Abruptly you tear yourself away from him, horror turning that once bright fire into ash in your mouth. Music becomes white noise in your ears, you watch Manolo’s mouth move but couldn’t hear the words that he was actually saying. Slowly you back away from him. He follows you back to the table the both of you had previously sat at. Gripping the edge to stop your head from reeling further, you don’t hear Manolo come up from behind you.

“Please-”

You shake your head furiously and pivot on your feet. Too many emotions were hijacking your body. Unable to even look him in the face unless that feeling of attraction was to bloom in you once more. The buzz you’d been enjoying betrays you. 

It’s just the alcohol. You’re not really in love with him. Not after all this time. It just had to be your inebriated state. Any other reason for it, you refuse to acknowledge. If you stayed on the dance floor any longer, you would have kissed him. Or he would have kissed you. Someone would’ve initiated it. And if it were Manolo, you’d let him kiss you.

He tries to put a hand on your shoulder but his touch scalds you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. . . I-I”

Taking a deep breath, finally you manage to meet his desperate gaze. Fear flashes vividly in them. Neither of you could even describe what had transpired as an accident. Vulnerability has your stomach curling into itself self-consciously. 

Joaquin was right all along. You and Manolo weren’t just friends. Definitely not anymore. What were you then if not friends? This would justify all of Joaquin’s accusations. going out was supposed to be for Manolo’s benefit, get his mind off of romance and relationships. Not to confuse him with these feelings that have sprout up so suddenly that it gives you whiplash.

“W... We should leave.” Your lead tongue finally moves to articulate words. Disappointment leaks from him but there nothing you could do about that. Wordlessly, the two of you leave the cantina. You don’t bother to look back and check if Manolo is following you. His soft, sad footsteps trek after you. Unlike early, the walk home is quiet. As much distance as possible is forced between you and Manolo. It just then reenters your mind that Manolo was sleeping on your couch. That had to end. Tonight though, you’d let him stay. He was in no state to be alone in his empty house. Now that would be adding cruelty. 

Inside of your home, you mumble a hasty goodnight and retreat to the safety of your room. Quietly you listen to his shuffling outside. A creak comes from the floorboards before you hear the sound of the couch as Manolo sits down.

What’s he thinking right now? Is he realizing he almost made a huge mistake in kissing you? He’s gotta be. Maybe this will make him go back to Maria to talk things out. Good. For the best. They were meant to be together. Everyone said so. Yet when you think about them going back to each other, a lump forms in the back of your throat that chokes you up. 

You wanted very much for the void to swallow you whole. Leave nothing left of you in the mortal world. You desired to go to the Land of the Forgotten and to have Xibalba tear you into pieces. 

When cruel morning light peeks in through your curtains, you pull your covers over your head. If you didn’t get up soon, you’re certain your mom will come and break down your door. Whether out of motherly concern or as your boss, you weren’t sure. But once you didn’t show up for work without a notice, she would hunt you down to the end of the earth. Drinks last night hadn’t been too bad to where you had a severe hangover, simply a dull ache that resonated at your temples. A cup of coffee will help with that. If you could gather the courage to get out of bed and face Manolo. No way you could put it off any longer. Prolonging the inevitable.

Running a hand over your face to dislodge signs of sleep, you roll off of your mattress and set about getting ready for the day. Dread is heavy in you after getting dressed, your hand hovering over your bedroom door knob. 

To your surprise, your living room is empty. The pillow and blanket Manolo had been using were neatly folded and placed atop of the sofa cushions. A folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on the front begs for your attention. Manolo became a fixture on your couch that seeing him not there makes you more uneasy than relieved. 

You can’t bring yourself to read it. Instead you tuck it into your pocket and head into your cocina to get coffee before going into work. 

The sinking feeling you’d experienced last night lingers in you. Your rambunctious little brothers, always running around, even notice how quiet you are and in turn aren’t as loud as usual. They even cast worrying glances at you when they think you’re not looking. Head down, you just worry yourself with keeping busy and numb. 

What happened last night. . . You replay every moment. Turning them over and wondering what exactly went wrong for you to so suddenly be in love with your best friend. Because now that you weren’t drunk, those feelings stayed. You overanalyze everything until you mentally exhaust yourself. 

At some point while you’re in the kitchen with your dad, the note Manolo left for you soundlessly slips out of your pocket. Papa maneuvers around you for something when he notices the slip of paper on the ground. He bends down to pick it up and stares at your name in print. He recognized that print. Seen it throughout the years change but he’d known the familiar swirls in the letters. Manolo’s writing. Papa opens it without any regard for your privacy.

His bushy eyebrows shoot up in shock at its contents and his eyes dart from the piece of paper to your shoulders as you fix together dough for the orejas. 

He makes you jump when he calls out your name. You turn and he’s holding the note with your name facing you. Gawking, your hands immediately pat down your clothes before realizing too late. “What is this?”

You knew he wouldn’t give it back to you, not until you explained it to him. Difficult when you didn’t even read it yourself. 

“What is he talking about?” Your normally stoic father was now shaking the paper in his hand. “What happened last night?”

The fever-like blush that stains your face embarrasses you. Yeah this was not a subject you wanted to broach with your dad. “Papa-”

“What is all the noise?” Mama hangs over the half-door to peer into the cocina. Papa bypasses you although you desperately make grabby hands at the note in his hand. He hands it to your mother and now she’s reading Manolo’s handwriting. She gasps, scandalized and her eyes round as she clutches the front of her apron like she was having a heart attack. 

Your brain feels like flan as your mouth makes lame attempts to explain yourself to your parents. You felt like a kid again after getting in trouble. As if you didn’t feel bad enough already. The best thing for you to do was to wait until they exhausted themselves. If you tried to talk now, they would only raise their voices.

And eventually they do run out of wind. You even wait an extra minute before explaining to them how Maria and Manolo broke up, he’d been staying with you since and that the two of you went out for some fun last night. Nothing out of the ordinary, your parents knew Manolo since he was a kid and always liked him. He was sweet, considerate with helping out around the panaderia if he was visiting even though he definitely didn’t have to. Another thing was how respectful Manolo was to your parents. They thought he was a good boy. Nothing like Joaquin. 

The note still troubles them and they bring up. “And this? What is he talking about?” Finally you snatch it from his hands to read it. 

They leave you be for a few moments as your eyes hungrily eat up Manolo’s written words:

I’m sorry. I never meant to make things awkward. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on your couch while you’re out at work. What else was there for me to do? I thought a lot about what Maria and I went through with Xibalba and La Muerte. Even before then. Everything seems to start and end at you though. When I worried about my future and what would happen, I knew you’d be there beside me as you’ve always been. And that gave me such relief. I thought I’d never feel joy again but then you suggested we go out to listen to music. You and the music woke me up to life again. I’m sorry I screwed everything up and probably hurt you. Separating from Maria was world ending, but life without you would thrust me into a completely endless void. I don’t know what any of last night meant. I understand if you’re upset with me and don’t want to see me. I hope some day soon you can forgive me and we can talk.

Manolo was always eloquent with his words. You weren’t angry with him. Not even when it happened. There were a lot of emotions swirling inside of you last night, not anger toward him though. An actual adult would have spoken to Manolo that same night to figure things out. You’d been so flustered and confused, even embarrassed and you just couldn’t face him in that moment. This couldn’t go on any longer. 

 You fold the note back up before addressing your parents. “I’m gonna step out for a little bit.” The seriousness in your tone as them quietly nodding, staring after you as you take your apron off and leave the panaderia.

You’d try his house first to see if he was there. A few places in mind to where Manolo could be. Mentally organizing them from the most possible to least. At this time of day, the streets were deserted except for a couple of vendors and stray chickens. Your work shoes, while perfect for standing hours at a time, were not exactly the best type to run in. 

The Sanchez home was quiet. Weird trying to adjust to Manolo’s great-grandmother not sitting out front while she’s knitting, her glasses nearly as big as her head. 

A few birds above twitter and swoop over the roof of the house. 

No one answers your persistent knocking. You even peek in through his windows to find not a soul in sight. Just the lonely chairs that once occupied his father and great-grandma. 

That’s when you pick out the gentle strumming of chords not too far away. You close your eyes and concentrate on the forlorn chords. They sang of the ache in Manolo’s heart. They came from the direction of the decommissioned bull fighting arena. Only a few blocks away, you start the short walk there. As you drew closer and closer, the singing of his guitar becomes stronger in force. 

Outside the arena walls, there are already a few individuals who had stopped to listen or try and peek their head inside. Instead of matador posters on the walls, there were now posters of performances that would be happening. 

The inside of your mouth is uncomfortably dry and the ramming of your heart nearly nauseates you into stopping. You had to. You loved Manolo too much to ruthlessly ignore him. That would be like ignoring the other part of you. He was ingrained in your every day life. It was weird not to talk to him.

You find Manolo alone, sitting silently in the middle of the ring. The old bull fighting arena where generations of his family had come to face off against the hoofed beast that furiously charged at them. All of that infamy ended with Manolo. He was never meant to be a killer. A lover, not a fighter. 

He’s mindlessly strumming the metal strings, face tilted up to the clear blue sky and letting the sun gift him with besos upon his cheeks. It sounded like the melody of whatever song was being played last night when you and Manolo danced together in the cantina. Only it lacked the vibrant energy. Dampened by his own mood. His only audience were a few birds that sat on the bench seats where spectators normally were. 

Sitting atop of the fence of the ring, you observe him silently. You don’t want to startle him. Plus you always loved when Manolo played guitar. He’d tried teaching you once upon a time but you lacked the patience for it. Wearing his traditional black and red traje de luces short jacket, you catch the sunlight glinting off of gold tassels. Your Manolo.

Just thinking that to yourself had you ruffled and blushing. He wasn’t your’s. You never saw him like that. Not before last night. Was that true though? There had to be other moments where your heart was struck by something you’d never felt before. You did get rosy eyed whenever you hung out in the arena while he was forced to train by Carlos. You’d do stupid little things to make him crack a smile as his father cracked down on him. You never liked seeing him despondent. Especially when the source was from Carlos Sanchez whom Manolo only wanted to be proud of him. 

As Manolo continues to play his guitar, he starts moving slowly until he’s completely turned around to face you. When he lifts his eyes to where you sat, you see him startled and nearly drop his guitar. You smile shyly. Now or never. So much was riding on this interaction with him. Your friendship dangling on the line. But as he registers you there and begins walking over to you, the courage you’d been able to nurture has shriveled up and died. This was scary. This was new.    

He’s tentative about approaching you, every movement he executed was calculated like he was coming up to a stray, scared animal. You couldn’t blame him. You’d completely ignored him the rest of last night. 

You run your tongue across your cracked lips. “Hey. . .”

His breath is shaky. “H-Hey.”

Patting the spot next to you on the fence, he carefully sets down his guitar and sits next to you; making sure he puts space between both of you. 

“I just read your note.” Slowly you kick your legs back and forth, something to release the pent up anxiety that needed an outlet. “I. . . You didn’t upset or hurt me last night. It was all just so confusing. You just broke up with the literal love of your life. I know I’m your best friend but the last thing I want to be is your rebound.”

Manolo blanches and attempts to stutter out his own exclamation but he required a moment to come up with his reply. “I never thought of you as a rebound. I’m not going to lie, everything is still confusing to me. Nothing has made sense since breaking up with Maria, but you’re a comfortable constant I can always cling to. Whatever last night meant to you, well. . .” The way he just refuses to look at you tells you more than he ever could verbally. 

“You. . . meant to kiss me?”

The tips of his ears actually BURN pink from his blush and a smile breaks across your face. “Not exaclty- well, i mean. . .” He huffs, frustrated with himself. “I figured, if it happens, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

Holy shit.

Your brain hums and that not so bad nauseous feeling rises back in you again. Realizing that it wasn’t nausea. It was something entirely different.

“Meaning?”

Fiddling with his strong, callused fingers, Manolo chews on his bottom lip. Then his chocolate dark eyes land on you. That look, it screamed love and desire all bundled into one great feeling.

He goes on to tell you “You know, there was a time while Maria was gone that I hoped you would look my way and see me as someone who was more than a friend to you.”

How could that be true? He’d always loved Maria and that love had neither diminished nor left his constant thoughts. He let everyone know that. Manolo and Joaquin would get into contests about who would win Maria over. Lighthearted fights of course. There was no hitting, more like bragging. You found these debates amusing and added your own commentary. 

“You liked me?” 

Manolo chuckles and nods. “Of course I did.” Making sound like it was only obvious that he did. “I started to think that maybe Maria and I weren’t meant to be together. That maybe I would be leagues happier with you. Why do you think I followed you around like some puppy?”

You never saw it like that. You thought you were the one to always be tagging along with Manolo and Joaquin. Little Joaquin even complained loudly to Manolo that you were annoying. 

Hands that were gripping the wood of the fence post you sat on grew sweaty as the damn hummingbird in your chest was going wild. 

“I never thought of you as a rebound or second choice.” He whispers and fluidly places his large hand atop of your’s. “I just thought. . . it was meant to be when we were dancing. All signs pointing to you. I’m sorry-”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” You airly laugh. “I told you I wasn’t mad. But, I guess it makes more sense now.”

Cautiously, Manolo asks “Did I misread any signals?”

“Absolutely not.” Now it’s you chewing at your bottom lip. “I felt bad though. How sudden it was. Even worse is that this proves Joaquin was right. And he’s never right!”

Manolo almost falls over from his laughter. “What was he right about?”

“That we were more than just friends. He never did like how much time we spent together.” How many times had you fought with your ex about it? Too many. Now you would have the egg on your face when Joaquin finds out. You didn’t want him gloating how you were wrong. And you didn’t want to hurt Maria either. You knew you wouldn’t like it very much if your ex partner got over you quickly and was in a new relationship. “Did Joaquin know about your crush when we were kids?”

Lips pressed in a thin line, Manolo nods. “Yeah. That could probably be why he thought us hanging out so much was weird.” He groans too when he realizes that he’ll be getting an earful from Joaquin once news of of this got to him. Plenty of times they had the same argument that you and Joaquin did. How both of you spent too much time together. You guys didn’t act like just friends. You were always closer. Always seated next to each other. Always laughing so loud that it annoyed your other companion. 

“You’re right that this is sudden.” He acknowledges your previous comment. “I think I need more time before we officially become a couple.”

You quirk an eyebrow up. “Oh? Who said I wanted to be with you?”

That made him pale and you knew your joke was a little too mean. You laugh and reassure him you were just kidding, his easy going smile once more on his face. 

In the meantime, you carefully angle your body so you’re closer to him and reach your hands out to cup his face. So handsome. That dumb smile on his face made you want to eat him up. He leans into your touch and before he knows it, you have your lips on his.

And that’s how the both of you went tumbling off the fence.

Manolo’s body softens your fall at least. Both of you are laughing though. “Oh dios mio Manolo are you okay?”

His chest moves up and down as he gasps out his own laughter. “Never better.” He gives you a thumbs up. 

You hover above him before taking his lips once more in a drawn-out kiss that left him breathless and starry eyed and you with fire in your blood. Hands found their way on your hips and by a force of magic, you end up straddling his waist. 

Choking on your own breath, skin underneath your clothes tingle when he runs his hands from your hips to the swell of your thighs. A simple action that left you overly sensitive and wanting for more. 

Pressing yourself flat against him, your lips devour his neck with the gentlest of nips that leaves Manolo a panting, squirming mess under you. He’s trying to say something but moans when your own hands do their own exploration. 

Restraint is needed for you to peel away from him and to stand up on wobbly legs. Manolo looks up at you with disoriented eyes. “Where are you going?” 

“Well, we very well can’t be making out in public. Not when we’re not officially a couple.” You smirk at him and wait for Manolo to get to his feet and run after you.

His house being the closest, you race him to the front door but he caught you in his arms and you let out a surprised squeal as this matador gone guitarrista hauls you into his arms. When the door clicks closed, you’re on him once again. Tongues wrestle, and clothes are discarded haphazardly. Your brain barely registers your back being pressed up against his wall or how he’s supporting the bulk of your weight with his arms. 

A blur of kisses, caresses, and moans ensue along with a glowing sheen of sweat that makes your skin tacky but you hardly mind. Not when you’re entangled with Manolo.

In his thrusts, Manolo was making you a promise that this was true. He’d give you his all. When the time came the both of you would tell the world of your love. By then you’ll be ready to face Joaquin’s scrutiny. 

At some point your bodies had made it to his bedroom but not necessarily to his bed. 

On his floor, you stare up hazily at his ceiling as your head rests atop of his arm. He’s sated and content to stay down there if it meant you could remain in his arms. Free hand swirling patterns along your bare skin. Manolo’s humming softly while you nuzzle the crook of his neck that has little love bites scattered. 

“Are you sure about this, Manolo?” This feels like a dream. But none of your’s had ever felt as real as this one. The heady delirium of sex lightened and reality was creeping back on you. Specifics would have to be ironed out to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings. Admitting that he wanted you, there was no willpower in you to stop yourself from tasting him. Common sense had fled from you in the split seconds before you kissed him. 

His prominent curly cue bobs as he shifts his head. “I am a little worried. But you’re with me, so things can’t be too bad.” Face optimistic, it smothers the negative thoughts that had been slithering around you. 

“Oh you should most definitely be worried. ‘Cuz when I get back to work, my parents will definitely know something happened. And they will know it’s you since they read your note.”

Comically, his eyes bug. “They read my note?! Why did you let them read it!” Face red, he’s mortified that your parents were aware of everything that happened. 

You laugh and clutch your stomach. “I didn’t let them! It slipped out of my pocket. Besides, I hadn’t read it yet so I didn’t know what it said. Otherwise I would have made sure not to take it with me!”

Manolo truly looks concerned for his life. “Your mama is gonna kill me. I saw what she did to Joaquin!”

Ah yes, she’d broken her wooden spoon on top of his head. She would have done a lot more were it not for your dad and Manolo restraining her.

“Just make sure to duck and you’ll be fine.”

[gorgeys]

Masterlist

Who I Write For everything is x fem!reader ★ = smut

Anora Mikheeva teach me ★

Camille L'espanaye meet me at midnight

Carla Roson so naive + pornstar ★

Emilia Alo nerves (part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Jackie Taylor masterlist: 90sbaddie!fem!reader jackieshauna x fem!reader smut ★ post-crash jackie missing fem!reader hc's secret admirers (jackieshauna x fem!reader) foragers ★ fem!cheerleader!reader

Katniss Everdeen for you

Maddy Perez  vivid fantasies + fever dreams  fem!nailartist!reader

Madison Beer you look so good in this light

Margot Robbie come to get your fix?

Naomi Lapaglia friends?

Queen Maeve strangers riding her hero suit ★ pervy!queen maeve ★ never let me go stargirl ★ homelander’s wife!reader ★

Rachel Berry gloria! (+ santana lopez)

Santana Lopez enemies to lovers thirty minutes ★ + crawling back to you ★ merry ex-mas sucking on her strap ★ gloria! (+ rachel berry) i could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Shauna Shipman jackieshauna x fem!reader smut ★ secret admirers (jackieshauna x fem!reader) kingston